Breaking Point
by winchesterlove94
Summary: Tag to Death's Door...What happened directly after Dean and Sam found out about Bobby's passing. Plenty of angst.


**Hey guys!**

**So I wrote this tag to 7x11, taking place directly after Dean and Sam found out Bobby passed away. I feel like 'Adventures In Babysitting' just didn't cover the aftermath at all.**

**And I just want to say that although I was extremely upset that Bobby died, there could not have been a better episode for him to leave on. It was the perfect way to go, and even though I'm sure we were all depressed for the next couple weeks, 'Death's Door' was a phenomenal ending for his character.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

_"We did everything we could. We're very sorry..."_

He can't breathe.

_"We're baffled as to how Robert even woke up at all...the bullet had caused too much trauma to his brain for there to be any chance of a full recovery..."_

The world spins around him as air escapes his lungs in a whoosh.

"_We wish you our greatest condolences for your loss..."_

He feels like he's been punched in the gut as the man in the white lab coat continues.

"_It's in your best interest to begin making arrangements for your uncle...like I said, we are very sorry."_

Everything moves in slow motion.

Sam feels his stomach twist and forces down the bile that rises to his throat. He does everything he can to keep his eyes away from the still body on the table behind the doctor, but they seem to stray there anyway. The icy air of death fills the air, Bobby's pale skin standing in contrast against the yellow walls behind him.

"So can we go talk to him?" Dean questions in a hollow voice.

The doctor cocks his head and shifts his stance, shooting Sam a look who's too busy staring at the body behind him. "Uh...Sir, I don't think you understood me correctly. You're uncle has passed away." He continues with sympathy.

"But can we go talk to him?" He asks again.

"Sir, he's dead."

Sam snaps his head back at the doctor, forcing his eyes away from the body. Time slows down as both of the brothers stare at the doctor.

"What'd you mean he's dead?" Dean suddenly shouts.

"Sir-"

"No, no, no. He's can't be dead!" Dean growls, holding back the urge to scream and punch and kill everything in his path, as his fists shake at his sides.

The doctor shifts uncomfortably as the sound of his beeper suddenly goes off. "I have to take this. We'll take care of your Uncle until things are sorted through and arrangements are made. Again, I'm very sorry."

He quickly hurries off down the hallway, leaving Dean and Sam glued to the floor. It takes several seconds before either of them begin moving. Dean turns around, his back to Sam as he runs a hand over his face, reality not yet hitting him. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at the tile floor.

Sam continues to stare at Bobby's body, tears welling in his eyes and spilling down his cheek. He takes slow, measured steps forward, cautiously entering Bobby's room. Sam stares at the still body, an array emotions swirling throughout him. He almost waits for Bobby to start moving and to tell him that everything's okay, like he usually would.

He takes a stand beside the cot and subconsciously grabs Bobby's hand, jumping at the icy feeling. His hand lay limp, cold and unmoving.

"B-Bobby..." Sam starts, not recognizing his own shaky voice. "I-I don't really know what to say...this doesn't- this just doesn't seem real." He scoffs lightly, a tear falling down his cheek and landing on his and Bobby's hand. "Just...thanks. For everything, Bobby. Me and Dean...we probably wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you, and uh-" He pauses, pushing back the lump in his throat. "You were like a father to me and Dean and you were always there for us and- just...thank you." Sam finishes, squeezing the limp hand one more time before setting it down softly on the bed.

_Awh, look at little Sammy cry._

Sam's blood runs cold and his breath catches in his throat, Lucifer's voice chilling him to the very bone.

_What? You thought you'd gotten rid of me? Sorry pal, I'm not going anywhere._

"Excuse me, sir!" A voice suddenly interrupts and Sam feels someone grab his arm. He spins around, coming face to face with one of the nurses, her eyes panicked as she glances behind her, back into the lobby.

Sam feels his heart break and his stomach drop, as he watches Dean completely lose it.

The older brother grabs one of the waiting chairs and flings it across the room, it shattering against the wall. He flips over one of the small coffee tables, the glass countertop breaking to pieces and its contents flying everywhere. He suddenly punches the wall to the side of him, a deep indentation left behind as plaster falls to the ground. People huddle to the side, watching in horror and sympathy as nurses scatter around the room.

"Security!" One nurse yells, before Sam jumps into action.

"Dean!" He screams, rushing into the lobby. "Dean, stop!" Sam shouts, his brother throwing another chair across the room. Their eyes meet for a moment; Deans' wild and animalistic, Sams' broken and alarmed. Dean goes to grab another chair, but Sam runs at him, shoving him backwards. "Stop!" He finishes, grabbing Dean's arms and holding them at his side.

Dean pauses, his breathing heavy as he stares at his brother. He knocks Sam's hands off him and glances around the room, taking in the spectators. Without another word, he turns around and stalks out of the room, Sam following close behind as he mutters an apology to the nurses.

It feels as though the brothers are walking in a haze as they make their way outside of the hospital. Dean scans the lot for the Impala out of habit, before remembering that his car has been under house arrest.

Another thing he loved...ripped from his grasp.

He spots the shitty van they had driven to the hospital in parked a few spaces down the lot. One of the hospital attendants must've moved it after they drove in, due to the fact that it had been parked literally on the sidewalk.

_You just lost the closest thing you had to a Daddy...and now...you're losing your big brother too._

Sam grabs his hand and digs his fingernail deep into the scar on his left hand, grimacing as pain shoots throughout his palm.

_Ah, ah, ah._ Lucifer taunts mockingly. _Looks like those old tricks just aren't cutting it anymore._

A soft, half strangled choking noise comes out of Sam's mouth as he squeezes his eyes shut in the hopes that the image of Satan would disappear. He stops walking and grits his teeth together, waiting for the hallucination to pass.

He feels a hand gently grip his shoulder and he turns around, coming face to face with Dean. The older brother looks at him, matching grief and loss in his eyes. Sam's face crumples and he hangs his head, feeling Dean tighten his grip on his shoulder, offering what comfort he could.

Sam nods an 'I'm okay' and continues trailing behind Dean as they walk towards the car. Dean pulls himself into the car and slams the door behind him, his shoulders deflating as he sits still for a moment. Sam follows in pursuit, taking a seat in the passenger side, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

"Where-" Sam begins, before swallowing the lump in his throat. "Where should we go?" He asks, barely recognizing his own voice.

Dean's quiet for a minute before starting up the car. "I don't know." He whispers gruffly, pulling out of the lot.

The brothers drive for miles and miles on end in complete silence.

Dean's shoulders are set ridged, his face with a stone like expression. He clenches the wheel until his bruised and bloody knuckles turn white, adjusting his grip once in a while. Sam fidgets in his seat, twitching every so often when he hears Lucifer whisper in his ear. Tears continuously well in his eyes, but he pushes them back, refusing to let them fall.

Sam begins to feel suffocation slowly creeping up. He takes a deep breath, but feels like no air enters his lungs. He sneaks a peek at Dean, his brother's eyes distant as he stares out the windshield.

Dean feels Sam watching him, but keeps his eyes on the road. There's just too much to say and Dean so didn't want to open those floodgates right now. He needed to keep that burning feeling in his gut at bay.

Sam sighs and turns to look back out the window, when something catches his eye. He glances in the back of the van and feels his stomach lurch. A small pile of bright red liquid lay in the back of the car, stained into the carpet.

Blood.

Bobby's blood.

_Doesn't this remind you of our time in the cage? There's not nearly enough blood in here compared to the pit, but still...Remember when I gutted Dean over and over again in front of you? _Lucifer muses from the backseat, his eerie whispers floating to Sam's ear.

The younger brother feels his breathing begin to pick up speed, his heart pounding in his chest. He almost reaches out and grabs Dean, just to make sure he's real, but restrains himself. Something else laying in the backseat catches his attention and with trembling hands, Sam picks it up, feeling his stomach drop.

"Stop the car." Sam whispers.

"What?"

"Stop the car, Dean!" He yells, feeling his body start to shake.

"Sam!" Dean yells with panic, watching Sam turn a sickly shade of green. He abruptly pulls the car over, slamming the breaks as Sam shoves the car door open. He throws himself out of the car before it comes to a complete stop, dropping to his knees, and emptying the contents of his stomach onto the side of the road.

Dean hears Sam's retching and throws his own door open. "Damn it." He growls, jogging around the front of the car to Sam's side. He leans down on one knee and rubs circles around Sam's back as he dry heaves, something he always used to do when Sam was sick as a kid.

Sam gasps for air, spitting on the ground once before leaning back on his heels, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. The object he had picked up from the van drops from his arms and falls to the ground. Dean hears a sob rise from Sam and gently pulls his head up, hooking an arm around his waist and hefting him to his feet.

Sam grabs Dean's arm and desperately clings to his brother's jacket. His knees shake under him, his legs wobbling as he leans heavily onto Dean. Exhaustion was beginning to take a toll on him and he didn't know how much longer he could stay vertical.

"It's okay. I gotcha, man." He soothes, helping Sam back into the car. "You gonna puke on me, or are you okay?" He asks and immediately regrets it. Of course he wasn't okay. Neither of them were.

Sam nods his head once, sniffling as he pulls his legs into the car. "De-"

"I'm right here, Sam."

_Me too, Sammy. I'll always be here._

Sam gnashes his teeth together, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Sam? You gonna get sick again?" Dean questions, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Sam?" He says again when he gets no answer. The pieces click together finally as Dean shakes Sam, his eyes snapping open. "Are you seeing Lucifer?"

The younger brother stares ahead before slowly nodding his head.

"Sam, he's not real. He's-"

"I know, Dean." Sam mumbles under his breath.

Dean runs a hand through his hair, feeling guilt weigh him down. He didn't know how to fix Sam, he didn't know where to go from here, he didn't know how to go on without the rock that held the dwindling family together. Bobby had been-

No. Dean pushed back the thought of Bobby. He couldn't deal with it...not now.

"I-I don't know what to do, Sam. How can I help?"

"You can't."

"But Sam-"

"Dean, you can't fix me. This isn't just some bump or bruise you can patch up." Sam says quietly in a haunting voice. "Dean, what are we supposed to do now?"

Dean's not sure how to respond as he crosses his arms over his chest. He glances at Sam who stares at him like he holds all the answers to life's greatest secrets. "I don't...I don't know, Sam." He answers truthfully.

"I-...I just can't believe he's- you know...he's gone." Sam comments. "It doesn't feel real, you know? It's like this is one big nightmare."

"Our whole life's a fucking nightmare." Dean mutters, staring down the road behind them.

"I just feel like we've been losing everyone lately. First Cas...then Bobby. Cas was basically family to us. And Bobby was like our father. Hell, a better one than our actual Dad. All these people-"

"Sam, can we just not do this right now?" Dean suddenly exclaims, the truth feeling like a slap in the face.

"Dean, you're gonna have to face this sooner or later and-"

"No, Sam! Just...no. We're not doing this."

Sam sighs and leans back in the seat. "Fine." He whispers, resting his head against back of the seat.

Dean nods once, before shutting the door, leaving Sam staring blankly ahead. He takes a step forward, avoiding Sam's stomach contents on the floor and feels something under his foot. He glances down and removes his foot, feeling all the air escape his lungs. He bends down and picks up the tattered object, holding it gingerly in his hands.

An old, dirty, ragged baseball cap lay in his shaky hands, a single bullet hole stamped into the left side and an outline of blood around its perimeter.

Dean's hand tighten around the cap as he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling his entire body start to shake with anger. He clenches his jaw so tightly, it's a wonder his teeth don't break from the amount of pressure on them. Suddenly, everything becomes too much and he's pushed over the edge.

He lets out an animalistic roar, his head thrown back as emotions pour out through the scream. "What more do you want from me!" He shouts, not sure exactly who he's yelling at. "Why can't you just give us a God damn break?" He howls, before his screams die down. His cries echo throughout the road before silence settles over, all except for Dean's heavy breathing. His throat is raw and dry, tears pooling over his eyes.

Dean doesn't know how long he stands outside of the van, the damp air sticking to his skin, fog settling across the road. He eventually makes his way back to the driver's seat and slowly pulls himself inside, avoiding Sam's eyes. He glances down at Bobby's baseball cap before setting it down in the back.

Sam watches Dean quietly, tears staining his cheeks as Lucifer hisses in his ear.

_I'm still here, Sammy…Always._

Sam ignores the whispers, gritting his teeth together.

The brothers sit in silence, neither speaking as the tension in the car morphs into exhaustion.

Without another word, Dean starts up the van and pulls back onto the empty road.

"Dean-"

"You should sleep." He interrupts hoarsely. "I'll wake you when we get somewhere." He mumbles, planning on driving until he could go no further.

Sam stares at his brother, gently laying a hand on Dean's arm, not sure what else to do. Dean glances over at him, reading between the lines of his brothers actions.

_We're gonna get through this...Somehow._

"Get some sleep, Sammy." Dean repeats, watching as Sam removes his hand and curls inwardly towards the door, getting as comfortable as possible. Sam lets out a long sigh before his breathing evens out, fatigue taking over.

Dean glances at Sam's sleeping form, worry lines etched on his face even with sleep.

The hits just kept coming and he didn't know how much more either one of them could take before it became too much, especially with Sam's private viewings of hell.

They'd lost everything...The Impala, Bobby's house (the only home, besides their car, that they'd ever known), Cas, and now Bobby.

Dean honestly didn't know why he was even going anymore.

The one thing that kept replaying in his mind was that he knew deep down, soon enough, he'd lose Sam too. And he knew that losing his brother would be the end of him as well.

It was just a matter of time.

**The End**

**I don't know why, but I didn't really like this ending. But after spending an hour trying to figure out a different one, I came up empty. So sorry if this is a disappointment!**

**Let me know what you thought!**


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